It Was For The Best
by HowAboutThat
Summary: No it wasn't, but I felt the need to write this...] It was all his fault that this happened and there was nothing he could do about it. His brother was dying. [Rated T: Character death... probably some feels. You've been warned] [Sooooort of Hurt/Comfort, but not really... you'll understand after you read] [One-shot] [Dipper & Mabel Mentioned]


HAT: ... My mind's been going a mile a minute and I can't seem to shake this one despite needing to work on my other stories. Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls... sadly... just the plot... sad- *perks up* I mean, gladly... *laughs nervously* Um... ONWARD, AOSHIMA!**

* * *

 _No... No, no, no, no, no... Oh, nonononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono! This can't be happening. This can't be real... he can't be_ dying _right now- he just can't!_ Tears build into brown eyes and fall onto the near mirror image in front of him while he tugs at his thick hair with large hands.

All that work.

All that _bonding_.

All for nothing.

The man that's lying in front of him is _dying_.

He can hear wailing behind him- he didn't think it was a good idea for the two of them to see this..

Dipper. His great-nephew. He's trying to be strong and help his sister even though he's bawling his eyes out himself. Like the child he actually is- sometimes it's easy to forget that this twelve year old isn't older than what he really is when speaking to him- he's so intelligent- or when he isn't speaking since he's so small. Especially what he's been through this summer.

Mabel. His great-niece. Utterly _devastated_ and crying to the point that she can't breathe. Very emotional. Who knows if she'll ever recover from the death of her great uncle. Lord knows he won't. That Dipper won't either. Still, she- if not he, himself- will suffer the most at the death. When she feels something, she feels it with a strength that normal people don't possess... just like _him_.

They're begging for him not to die.

So was he.

"Y-you can't die... we- we..." A thick swallow. "We haven't gone sailing yet... y'know- like we planned... we were gonna rebuild the Stan'O'War and go sailing around the world... please, please don't die on me."

There's a ragged breath and then a coughing fit.

Blood... so much blood... blood and burns. One on his right cheek is particularly gruesome and it leaves his stomach churning just looking at it. Blood being coughed up and trailing down the sides of his face- too pale.

It _hurts_ seeing his brother- his _twin_ \- like this.

He wishes that it were him instead. His brother doesn't deserve this- not after everything that he's been through. Not after everything that's happened. Not after they just started getting back to the way they were before _that_ night. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

It was all his fault. If he had just stayed with his brother and not left him behind, this would've have happened. They'd be safe and a happy family again. Now because of that mistake, he's losing the one person that's ever _truly_ understood him, his one _true_ friend.

"D-don't blame yourself," the dying man wheezes.

A ragged sob that's been held in the back of his throat for who knows how long. "I-it is m-y fault. A-ll my fau-lt."

He can't stop crying no matter how hard he tries and takes the uninjured hand in his own and bows his head to touch his forehead to his brother's hand. He _should've_ tried to patch things up between then sooner- if he had maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe he could've talked him into not sacrificing himself.

"Not... your... fault..." Oh no. His breath is becoming slower. "I for-give... you..."

"Please, don't die..."

"Love... you..."

He can feel the life leaving this man so he brokenly whispers as he lowers his head to rest on the bloodied chest of his brother and whispers. "I love you, too, Stanford... G-goodbye..." After taking several seconds to gather himself he stands up and turns to the children, already feeling the flames crawling closer- coming to claim the body. "C'mon, kids, we've gotta get outta here."

"But what about-" Mabel starts.

"There's no time!"

"But Grunkle Stan-" Dipper tries, but he gets nowhere, just like his sister.

"Let the dead bury the dead," Stanley snaps before pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing in then out. That came out harsher than he intended. "Listen, I'll come back for him later and bury him, if it makes you feel better, alright?"

"We can get his body now-" Dipper tries to insist, but- again- gets cut off.

"You don't want two dead grunkles, do you?" Stanley demands, his heart breaking that he has to use that, but they're still his number one priority. When he gets shaking of heads he picks the two of them up and runs around the corner. "Let's go."

The three escape what seems to be a tomb after Stanley uses all his remaining strength to move the rock in front of the opening. He wonders- briefly- if he should leave his brother there and make this his eternal tomb, but casts the thought aside. He promised he'd get Stanford's body out of there and he would- even if they were just ashes.

* * *

He went back for the body late that night after putting the kids to sleep- it was rough, but they were too exhausted to stay up for too long; he couldn't sleep so he might as well. It was about four in the morning by the time he was able to leave.

Stanley opened the entrance and turned on his flashlight before entering cautiously. Once he reaches where his brother died he chokes a little when he finds ashes and sees hardened glass and plastic in a pile within those ashes. He wipes away the tears and goes over with the dust bin and small broom and sweeps the ashes into the dust bin and puts them into a large leather bag and a medium sized leather bag which fills up quickly. It takes several minutes before he's gotten all the ash that he can, but he does it and closes the leather bad with a leather cord.

When both are in his jacket pocket he walks out of the underground structure and closes the entrance again.

When he gets to the backyard of the Shack he takes off his jacket and places it in the grass nearby and then starts digging the grave. He knew what he meant when he said "let the dead bury the dead." He had died when he realized that his brother wasn't going to make it. He'd been dead for decades, really. No real purpose in life, just hustling and scraping by as best he could and even then he saw nothing to give him life until the kids came along. They added something to his sole drive to get his brother back.

He wasn't fit to be called a brother.

He left his brother behind... _again_. He knows the kids are his number one priority, but damn it all if it doesn't kill him inside that his brother was dead because of him. He was his brother's downfall- _like always_. The project, the portal, _this._ He's always been a failure and now it's solidified. It should have been him. If it had, then his brother would be safe and okay and the twins would be okay and.. and he'd be dead.

 _It's not your fault._

 _"Stan, take the kids and run! I've got this."_

 _Don't blame yourself._

 _"Anything that happens is between me and him."_

"Shit," Stanley curses as he slams the shovel into the dirt and rubs his teary eyes with his forearms.

Stanford was right. He couldn't have done anything else. That was the best choice. The _logical_ choice. Stanley recalls a few times after being separated from Stanford where Dipper and Mabel would have died if he hadn't been there. Stanley _couldn't_ stay behind just like Stanford _couldn't_ go with them. If he had than it would've caught up to them and they would've all died. If it were Stanley that had been left behind the kids would have died- Stanford may have had fighting experience on the other side of that portal, but Stanley's more attuned to traps and danger and has better reflexes in general because of that.

Despite knowing this, he can't seem to stop himself from crying or lessen the grief at all.

He looks up and notices that the sun is rising. He's been out for hours and hasn't gotten a wink of sleep- not that he'd be able to make himself after the previous night's events.

The morning was too... _perfect_ for his mood.

" _Sunshine... blue skies..._ please _go away,_ " he sings quietly in his rough voice with tears choking him. " _My bro fell under and is gone away... without him in my future, my life is filled with gloom... so day after day, I stay locked up in my room... I know to you... it might sound strange, but I wish it would rain..._ "

Oh, how he wish it would so he could have an excuse for his eyes being wet, but his wishes are left unmet so he finishes digging the grave and climbs out of it. Once out he bends down and picks up his jacket before taking out the larger of the leather bags and tossing it inside. The smaller would be separated into three small bags and he'd give two of three to Dipper and Mabel while he'd keep the last for himself. He'd wear it as a necklace- no doubt- and so might the twins, but he can never be too sure.

Replacing the dirt takes a long time, but once he's done he stands there in silence. He's cried so much during the night that he can't even bring himself to cry now, just stare at the grave with the birds singing around him and a perfect sunrise happening in front of him.

 _Maybe... maybe this was for the best..._ Stanley thinks for the first time all night while the perfect morning happens in front of him. He allows himself a small smile at the thought of his brother- the both of them laughing and playing together. At least they fixed things between them before it happened...

Little does he know that he's being watched by two sets of eyes from the attic as his back straightens and they see their great uncle's profile as he smiles sadly, watching him to be an example. It's then that they decide to focus on the present and think fondly on the past- that seems to be what he's doing and it seems to make him hurt less.

If it had been switched, Stanford would have wallowed in guilt and self-pity for a long time and they would've followed his lead- after all, children do as they see their elders do.

It was for the best.

* * *

HAT: I don't know what happened. I thought, "everyone's thinking that Stan's gonna die, but what if it's 'Ford," and then this happened... I'm sorry.

Wendy: You've _got_ to get back to writing humor.

HAT: I know! But this show's got me so deep in feels that I can hardly write anything else!

Wendy: That sucks... anyway, review, dudes.


End file.
